


Routines Are Overrated

by zombiero



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frerard, Hooker!Gerard - Freeform, M/M, theres no smut sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiero/pseuds/zombiero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank's daily routine is not-so-rudely interrupted one day, but routines are overrated anyway, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routines Are Overrated

**Author's Note:**

> I had written this a while ago, but I'm finally getting around to posting it! (Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, I don't have a beta T_T)

·Wake up  
·Eat  
·Go to work  
·Come home  
·Eat  
·Jack off  
·Shower  
·Sleep  
·Repeat

Frank’s schedule was the same nearly every day.

Work was always the same; the same middle aged men who came in to reminisce about their time, and complain about ‘today’s music, and the same jittery teenage girls trying to get his number in not-so-subtle way.

The drive home was always the same, always getting stuck behind traffic at the third stoplight down the main drag.

Jacking off was always the same, lonely, desperation for love as it’s always been. He really needed more spice in his life. So when he decided he was going to get his first tattoo, almost everyone was surprised.

Almost.

"Dude…" His co-worker, Brian, said when he walked in the next morning.

"I know. Awesome right?" He said, smiling. He placed the white bandage back into place to cover the jack o lantern that just barely peeked out from his shirt neck line. The slight throb of heat he felt when he focused hard enough was almost the right amount of change he needed in his life.

Almost.

A few of the frequent customers took notice of the change, seeing that it hurt Frank to lean back in his chair, that he was usually found slouching over in. Most were comments of “Oh, you’re first?” And “Did it hurt?” But even the smallest change if conversation in the small shop was good enough for him. He didn’t care if all of the comments were good or bad, a change was a change. And he was taking everyone he got.

When the last of the customers filed out with their records and various instrument parts, he tossed the ring of small keys to Brian.

"Lock up, okay?"

He caught them and nodded in his direction, too busy staring at the busty lady walking down the cracked sidewalk in front of the small shop.

Pervert Frank thought as he walked out of the door, the bell signaling his exit.

He made it through the stoplights without having to stop, which was a first. Change is good, right?

Right.

When he got home, he called his favorite Chinese takeout place, only to find out that his usual was taken off the menu that morning. With a groan, he explained no, he did not want to try the chef’s special,and he hung up and grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter.

After driving for what felt like hours, he ended up of the bad side of some suburb five towns over. His stomach growled at him, very upset that he had broken his routine of a 5:15 dinner.  
"I know, I know. I will find something soon, I promise." He said, before he realized he probably looked like a lunatic.

After about another half hour of driving aimlessly, he decided he was lost. He pulled over close to an alley and a shady bar, hoping that if he were to get jumped, at least he could run into a mess of sweaty, drunk bodies for cover.

He was too busy using his phone as a flashlight to look at the small map he kept in his glove compartment to notice the man walk up to his window. He tapped sharply twice, causing Frank to jump in his spot and send his phone flying into the backseat. He rolled down his window a bit to peak out, and he was meet with a ratted mess of fire engine red hair and hazel eyes.

"Can I-uh, help you?" Frank said, after rolling his window all the way down to reveal a young, good looking guy, probably about the same age as himself, if not a little older. He kept a calm and confident face, but his eyes said a different story. They showed true fear. And once he shown his flashlight in the man’s face, he was met with a sharp red hand mark on his cheek, and-wait-is that glitter?

"Dude, are you okay?" He asked.

The guy’s eyes widened as a heavy metal door slammed and his head snapped to the opposite side of the street, just out of Frank’s view. He let out a small “shit” before opening the back door to Frank’s car and hopping in, pushing the neatly stacked CD’s to the floor.

"Oh, shit, sorry about that…" He said, before bending down to pick them back up again. His voice was higher than what Frank would have thought, but it suited him. The guy finished the stack, and sat back up to extend his hand to Frank before making himself at home in the backseat.

"Hi. I’m Gerard. I’m kind of running from those guys," he pointed out a group of big guys who suddenly appeared out if a dark building, big enough to loom over Frank, and strong enough to snap him like a twig if they tried. "And I need a place to stay. Do you know anywhere?" Frank hesitantly shook back, before adding his own name. “‘M Frank. And there’s a motel I know about 5 towns over that is relatively roach free for the price, if that’ll work?" The guy, Gerard, smiled and sat back in the seat and buckled himself in.

"Good."

Frank sat in a relative shock before he started the engine and pulled out of the alley, and towards what he thought was the interstate. He made sure to stay on the far side of the street, away from the overly large men that loomed on the corner, their eyes frantically searching down the alleyways. Frank saw Gerard slump down in his seat and pull the hood up on his green parka, shielding his face from the intruding yellow light from the passing street lamps.

When Frank finally got off the small roads and onto a seemingly empty interstate, Gerard finally perked up in the back.

"So, how far is this motel?" He asked, rummaging through Frank’s CD’s. He picked up one of Frank’s personal favorites, examining it in the moonlight, before setting it back down on the pile.  
"About an hour, maybe hour and a half." Frank answered. He didn't actually know for sure, but he felt that it was a good answer. Maybe they would get stuck in traffic down where he usually does? No, it’s getting pretty late as it is. There wouldn't be any traffic by the time they got back.

***

They drove in silence, and when Frank pulled into the small parking lot, he pulled out a couple $20 bills from his pocket, and handed them to the small man.

"Here, the room’s on me." He said, pushing them further into the backseat. "Seriously, I’d feel terrible if you didn't take it."

Gerard grabbed the bills, and counted the money between his fingers. The right side of his mouth twitched up in a smile, and he exited the car. Frank was just about to put the car back in drive and go home, but a tapping on the car window stopped him.

He rolled the window down, and Gerard leaned in with his arms rested in the car.

"You know this money will pay for much more than a room, right?" he said, a new tone in his voice. He batted his eyelashes, and Frank’s eyes widened when he thought oh.

"Don’t think of it like that, babe. Just—you bought me a room. Think of this like a thank you." He reached in the window and pulled the keys out of the ignition. Frank sat still in shock until Gerard opened the car door and pulled him up and towards the door.

"Oh, and call me Gee."


End file.
